


Manor of Four

by HeadWillCollapse



Category: Casper (1995)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, Family, Family Drama, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Paranormal, Post-Canon, Post-Casper (1995), Some Humor, The Trio are his biological Uncles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadWillCollapse/pseuds/HeadWillCollapse
Summary: On the 100th anniversary of his father’s death, Casper is once again reminded of how lucky he is to have the Ghostly Trio as family.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Manor of Four

The clouds above Friendship were angry tonight. Heavy winds whipped the shutters and whistled around corners. Teeming rain pounded the delicate stained glass windows and thunder shook the old manor’s cliffside walls. Rain didn’t suit this part of Maine, Casper thought, it tarnished the view. After a storm, without fail, the trees would hang limp and sickly and the sky would be gray for days on end. Whipstaff Manor was the most picturesque estate for miles, but a cloudy day could easily turn the beautiful cliffside mansion into a pile of corroded wood and stone. 

A couple of gray clouds were not the only reason Casper hated storms. A century worth of bad weather could never make him used to it. As a living boy, the young McFadden would run to his father. A single lightning strike would have him burrowing into the man’s protective arms so that he could be comforted and consoled. Not once did John Thomas ever tell his son to _grow up_ or _stop the nonsense_. No, that simply wasn’t JT’s parenting style.

“Patience and an even tone cures the child.” His father would say once Casper’s tears dried. “Patience and an even tone cures most things, I find.”

But his famous inventor father was no longer here to console him or hold him when the summer storms became brutal. One-hundred years ago this very night, his guardian and protector crossed over to the next world. And now, in the year 2020, the sky threw its tantrum and the boy was left shivering alone in some small corner of the house, cursing the eternal youth in his mind that refused to let go of such an irrational fear.

“Please stop,” He whimpered softly to the red oak ceiling. “At least until I fall asleep.”

**_CRAASHH_ **

No such luck.

Casper miserably sank onto the leather cushions of his armchair. A heavy sigh curved his mouth into a frown and he stared numbly at the photo clutched in his near-transparent hand. It was a picture of his father, alive and well, sporting his mustache and tie like any other gentleman of that time period. On nights like this, he enjoyed imagining what his life would have been. It wasn’t a very healthy thing to do, of course. Dr. Harvey was constantly warning him about getting too caught up in his past.

“Move forward.” The man would always say. “It’s not good for you to dwell on what can’t be fixed.”

Dr. Harvey was right. He was usually always right.

The spirit smiled sadly at the thought. His friend and therapist had his own place now, a one-story house ten minutes away from Whipstaff. The man stopped by three or four times a week, but it wasn’t the same. Casper felt his absence every day. It hurt to see all of his friends slowly leaving him one by one. Kat was all grown up now too and living three states away, Wendy had kids and a busy life, and Casper… Casper was _here_ , left alone like always.

 _No no_. That was a terribly selfish thought to have.

Casper was not _alone_. He was extremely lucky to have his uncles here in the afterlife with him. Sure, his relationship with the ghostly trio was _not_ always the friendliest, sometimes it was downright hostile, but they were still _here_ weren’t they? They stuck around when no one else did and they were helpful when he needed them ( _sort of)._

“ _AHH_!” Another crack of thunder had Casper clutching JT’s picture to his chest.

Why _had_ his father left him here? Did his father really not have any unfinished business? Was he meant to have followed his father’s soul into the light? Maybe Casper wanted to be here, maybe he’d wanted to stay and his father didn’t. For a hundred years he had wondered: Why were his uncles here and not his father?

The young McFadden didn’t remember his uncles from life. If it hadn’t been for the photos and documents he’d found in the lab, he wouldn’t have believed the three were related to him at all. It had been his father’s death that brought the brothers to him that rainy night in July; his earliest memory of Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso being, of course, a loud _obnoxious_ invasion of privacy during a thunderstorm.

_“Well, don’t just sit there! Start cleanin’ dis dump, short-sheet!”_

Yes, he remembered it well. At Casper’s lowest, his uncles appeared. They took over the mansion without a word of explanation, effectively claiming the home and Casper as _theirs_. The eternal 12-year-old hid from them at first, afraid of their overbearing personalities, and when he’d finally built up the courage to crawl out of his hiding place, the three acted like he was stupid for being afraid.

_“What’s wrong? Don’t ya recognize us?”_

He didn’t, and admitting as much offended them utterly. It started them off on the wrong foot, setting the tone for how the rest of their afterlives together would go. For years after that, his uncles purposely lied and confused the memories that Casper had retained from life with his father. Their stories would change, their names would change, they spoke their lies boldly without pause, and even started hiding diaries and photos that proved them wrong. Slowly, as decades went by, Casper started to believe that the trio had really always been there, older, smarter, stronger, and with no one to argue otherwise, the friendly little ghost hung his head and accepted their words as truth.

It wasn’t until Kat and Dr. Harvey entered his life that Casper really began to untangle the mess of lies, the first one being that Whipstaff Manor belonged to _them._

_“Keep it up, Casper. You’ll be hauntin’ gas stations!”_

One of Stretch’s favorite jokes was to threaten Casper with kicking him out of the house. Fifty years ago that might’ve scared the ghost-child, but Whipstaff Manor was never theirs to claim. The entire house had been built by JT himself from the ground up after selling a few of his inventions. He’d found proof down in the lab. Every brick, every stone, every burgundy carpet, and metal railing was paid for by his father. Casper supposed his uncles could always force him out if they wanted. It’s not like he would ever fight them back-  
AH _No_ , this train of thought had to _stop_. Thunderstorms always put him in a sour mood, but this was getting ridiculous!

**_BOOM! CRAASHH_ **

The next rumble of thunder shook the entire study. Lightning flashed once, twice, and then ** _ZAP_**! The lights flickered off, leaving the entire house in the dark.

“Uuuuhg no!” Casper groaned. Great. Just what his night needed! A stupid power outage.

He could already hear his three uncles’ grumpy complaints through the manor’s thin walls. It was inevitable. They were going to make him fly out into the storm, all the way to that stupid fuse box by the cliff’s edge. _Ugh!_ He _hated_ going out there in the dark. Everything looked so different at night.

“CassSPAAAH!”

That was his cue.

Taking a deep breath, the young spirit glumly flew through the halls of his forever home, straight to his uncles’ shared bedroom suite. He paused at the door before going in, noticing that he’d accidentally brought his father’s photo with him.

“Oops.” Stretch didn’t like being reminded of JT or _anything_ having to do with their past lives. He never reacted kindly to his nephew crying over things either, no matter what the reason.

“W _ellll_ maybe it’s fine.” The room would be way too dark for them to notice, right? Right.

Casper held the photo down at his side and quickly fazed through the large wooden door, poking his head in first before the rest of him.

“Hello? You guys in here?” The bedroom was dark aside from some flickering lightning. The three elder ghosts were nowhere to be seen. “Guuuyyy _s_? Uncle Stretch? I thought I heard you call me- _AHH_!!”

He should’ve known. The three spooky haunts appeared in a flash of lightning right before Casper’s eyes, laughing like maniacs. The younger ghost lurched back and smacked his head on the door behind him; it’s loud thump against the wood made his uncles laugh harder.

“Took you long enough.” Fatso snorted, looking smug while his much angrier brothers crowded Casper by the door.

“ _What_ do ya think you’re doin’, dish rag?” Stretch sneered “The fuse box is _OUTSIDE_.”

“Yeah, did you _forget_?” Stinkie’s rancid breath hit Casper like a hard slap. He shook his head, consciously trying not to twist the delicate photograph between his nervous fingers. 

“N-No! I didn’t forget, I just- I mean, I heard you call me. So I thought I’d-”

**_“GET GOING!”_ **

Casper yelped and scrambled back through his uncles’ closed door, nearly toppling an innocent display of armor in the hall. His hands grabbed at it to keep it from falling, but an umbrella suddenly came hurling out of nowhere. It smacked him in the head and sent both him and the armor to the floor.

“Don’t forget your umbrella, _Casper_!”

“Ha! Yeh, wouldn’t wanna get your _hair_ wet!”

 _Uuuugh_. “Jerks.” The trio’s cackle was nasty. No doubt the whole exchange was meant to humiliate their nephew for the entertainment. Why else would they call him there and then scold him for showing up? _Arrrgg!_ It made him so angry! _Why would they do that to him?_ Didn’t they know what day it was?

Casper scowled at the floor. No, they probably didn’t. The anniversary of his father’s death only meant something to Casper. He didn’t have a right to be angry at them for not knowing.

“It still hurts though.”

It hurt _a lot_ actually. Everything they did hurt a lot. Why couldn’t they just love him back?

His bright blue eyes stared down at the photograph lying on the hallway rug. Even in the dark, he could make out his father’s calm loving features. Once upon a time, his existence had been very different. A kind voice would tell him he was smart, handsome, _wanted_. A man with intelligent eyes spoke his name proudly when introducing him to strangers, and would boast about his good heart and knack for climbing trees. 

_Man_ , what he wouldn’t give to relive those moments, to be hugged by his father again...

Pffsh! Well, useless wishes wouldn’t get him anywhere, now would they? The one soul in the whole universe who loved him like that was unreachable now, _gone_. Nothing could ever bring JT back to him and that was that.

Casper roughly brushed the photo aside and continued his path to the front door. Working quickly was the only way to save his night. He’d better hurry before the trio started getting impatient. Their mood was already in a bad place. Hopefully, if all went well with the fuse box, Casper would be able to fly straight to his playroom and not come out until morning.

“Here goes nothing.”

A powerful gust of wind almost sent the small ghost flying straight back into the house. A McFadden knew these grounds like the back of their hand, but violent storms made everything harder to see. “Just get to the fuse box and we’re done!”

The fuse box was a late addition to his father’s design. It sat in a funny place, a small alcove beside a long drop at the edge of a massive cliff. Not the ideal place for a fuse box, or _any_ box. A fall from this height would equal death if Casper wasn’t already a ghost, and even then being dead didn’t mean he was free from the dangers of the sea. The fall might not kill him, but it was still possible to get caught up in the water’s powerful current.

“Meh.” That never worried Casper much though. Heck, if he did ever fall, he would simply fly. Nothing more to it. 

The spirit continued his flight through the teeming rain. The box was right where it should be, holding more than a dozen switches and exposed wires. _Wow_ \- Not user friendly, that’s for sure. What year did fuse boxes go out of style? He’d have to mention this to Dr. Harvey. An electric trap this dangerous was an accident waiting to-

**_THWACK! ZZZZZAPP!_ **

“…”

The ghost didn’t know what hit him. One second he was flipping a switch, the next he was crashing through the surface of freezing water. Electricity coursed through his otherworldly form. It bounced around within him, blacking out his vision. He writhed, jerked, thrashed uncontrollably in a fit that felt more demonic than ghostly.

 _No, no, no, no, no_!

Ghosts can’t die. He wasn’t dying, but then what was happening to him?

The convulsions stopped quickly enough and Casper’s immediate response was to the start swimming upwards. His arms waved and clawed through the water, but nothing happened. It was as if they were fazing right through it!

“ _What?_ No!” He willed himself to shape-shift or go intangible, to try every trick in the book. It wasn’t working. The sea was pouring into him and over him and pulling him down, down, _down_ to the rocks and sand below. His spirit passed through each rock like it wasn’t there, and yet _somehow_ he was still being shoved along by the strong current.

“ _NO_!” This was bad, VERY bad! Terror, real unadulterated terror, struck him worse than it ever had in his entire afterlife. The water trapping him was relentless. Casper was kept under by its brute strength, dragged farther and farther from where he had fallen. He needed to calm down. He needed to focus. Panicking would only make it worse.

_Think, Casper, THINK!_

All around him was endless darkness and the sound of a million raindrops hitting the sea. He counted to ten, breathed in the salty water, but it was no good. The boy cried out in despair. He _couldn’t_ focus, he was too terrified! What if he was stuck being dragged around like this forever? He’d be haunting fishes and small-time shipwrecks! No one would ever find him, not even… his uncles.

Were they looking for him?

Were they worried?

It occurred to him then that the trio of brothers would only realize Casper was gone once the power failed to come back on. How long would that take? Would they even care enough to look for him? Dr. Harvey would surely miss him. His friend would ask about him and search desperately for any clues. The man would know Casper would never run off without telling someone- _anyone_ where he was headed. Maybe he would find the fuse box smoking and mutilated and know something went wrong,

But he wouldn’t know where to look. _No_ _one_ would know where to look!

It was then that Casper did something he hadn’t done in over a century, he sobbed. The little ghost cried muffled hiccups into the water, barely disrupting the flow around him. He was lost, unable to live, unable to die, forever caught in this unending limbo. His world blurred, his entire soul overcome with terror.

“Help me! _”_ He screamed, desperately begging heaven and earth to hear. “Uncle Stretch! Fatso! Stinkie! _DAD_!”

The call fell flat under the weight of sea and storm. He let himself fade out of conscious thought after that, detaching from existence itself as his spirit continued to be trapped under the heavy waves.

Casper was so stunned by the tragic horror of his situation, he’d nearly missed the feeling of being physically grabbed. The hands appeared suddenly, pinching willowy fingers latching onto his small soul and holding him against the crushing current. His eyes blinked open, everything around him was still too dark to see. Another harsh tug, the blessed sound of muffled shouting, and then _finally_ Casper felt himself being lifted up and out of the angry sea.

 _“Jeez_ _._ He really got some distance, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m almost impressed. Hey, guys! What does seaweed say when it’s stuck at the bottom of the sea? _”_

“Shuddup, Stinkie!”

 _What an odd feeling_ _._ A ghost usually felt weightless, but this was a whole different experience. He felt like _nothing_ , not solid, water, or air. Reality slowly started to bleed back into focus. The sensation of being held struck him first. Someone had him firmly and safely tucked in their arms, and whoever held him was flying. Casper recognized the feeling: light wind and a few droplets of leftover rain. He quickly pressed his face into the unknown ghost‘s chest and waited for the wind to subside. 

“It’s been ten minutes. Why isn’t he talkin? You with us, bulbhead?”

That voice… Casper knew that voice,

“We should shake him! That’ll wake him up.”

He knew _that_ voice too!

”Give ‘im a few minutes, will ya? When was the last time _you_ took an impromptu dive off a cliff?”

His uncles! They found him! Adrenaline surged through Casper anew. He groggily lifted his head to look around, a loopy smile planted on his face. They were in the front hall of Whipstaff Manor. The storm was over and the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. It shone beautifully through the windows, giving the room a soft friendly glow.

“Hey, he’s lookin’ at us!” 

Fatso and Stinkie were floating a couple of feet away, looking nervous and fidgety and maybe a little guilty.

“Should we call Dr. Harvey? I don’t like the way he’s smiling. It’s kind of creepy-”

“Pipe down, _morons_! _”_

Stretch. His most intimidating uncle was holding him, cradling him like a toddler against his chest _. Ugh._ He will _never_ live this down. “Wanna be useful? Go get me dat cell phone in Harvey’s office.”

“Will do.” Fatso and Stinkie saluted and flew off, bickering as they went. Casper waited for them to leave before gently pushing off Stretch’s chest. He hovered woozily within arm’s reach, looking anywhere but the older ghost’s face.

“Uncle Stretch, I’m s-“ 

“So are you alright or what?”

“Huh?” The younger ghost blinked hard and turned his head to see his uncle’s lavender eyes staring at him. Stretch had an odd look on his face; tired and alert at the same time, bored but clearly interested in the smaller ghost’s answer. The odd mix of expressions was hard to perceive. Was his uncle mad at him? “Uh y-yeah. I’m alright, I guess.”

“Good.” Stretch said gruffly.

Casper frowned. So the older ghost _was_ mad at him. It wasn’t like he’d asked to be electrocuted and thrown into the sea, but if apologizing proved how thankful he was…

“Listen, I’m really sorry-”

His uncle interrupted him again by shoving a piece of paper into his nephew’s face. Casper reeled back, stunned. Between Stretch’s forefinger and thumb was the black and white photo of his father John Thomas McFadden.

“We found it on the floor outside our room. Is dat where you’re keepin’ it now?”

 _“_ _What?_ No, of course not. It was an accident.”

“Mm-Hm.” Stretch turned the photo around and studied it himself. The thin specter rarely mentioned his fourth brother. Even now, it looked like the very presence of this photo was uncomfortable for him.

“You’re just like your father. You know, Casper?” He said, placing the photo on a nearby side-table. “I mean it. The good and the bad, you got it all. You’re just like ‘im.”

It didn’t sound like a compliment. Nothing from Stretch ever sounded like a compliment, but somehow Casper knew it was. 

“ _I can’t unlock it! I thought the code was 1 2 3 4?”_

 _“It is, air bag._ ”

And just like that the spell was broken. His other two uncles came plowing back into the room and Stretch was himself again, hollering orders, hands on hips, photo forgotten. 

Casper shook his head in disbelief. It felt like he had died and come back as a ghost all over again. In a way, he supposed he had. In the back of his mind, he was still picturing himself being trapped at the bottom of the sea forever. To be listening to his quarreling family again was a privilege, it was a debt he could never repay.

“You saved me.” The words tumbled out before Casper could stop them. “You don’t know how grateful I am. How did you guys find me?”

The ghostly trio paused their fighting to give him a surprised look. 

“We always know where to find you.” Fatso answered easily, like it was obvious. Stinkie nodded.

“Yeah. We’re family, aren’t we? Family looks out for each other, no matter how _clumsy_ they are.”

“I guess...” That didn’t answer Casper’s question though.

“Hey,” Stretch smacked the smaller ghost on the back of the head and spun him in a circle. “Enough feelin’ sorry for yourself! It’s _over_. Let’s get the good doctor here and put dis mess behind us.”

Casper agreed. He _would_ put this all behind him, but the lessons would most definitely stay. His uncles were not perfect, they were never meant to be fathers. They were arrogant and crude, and sometimes the most selfish souls to ever haunt the earth, but they were still his _family_. It was possible they even cared about him. Casper could work with that. 

“CassSPAAAH! Get in dis kitchen and start dustin' before Harvey shows up! I want enough dust on dis table to clog a vacuum!”

“Coming!”

...

_Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.- Anthony Brandt_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment and Kudos if you’d like to read more stories like this one. Stay safe out there!


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